Voicemail
by MarshmallowLover
Summary: When Tony & Gibbs have an argument, Tony leaves a message on Gibbs' voicemail that has unexpected repercussions. Warning: m/m slash. Tibbs. Not terribly angsty, really. THIS IS A REPOST.


**A/N: This is a repost, since I have family members wanting to read my stuff who would be horrified to find out I've written slash. Much as I am ashamed to call people with such views family, it's not worth causing problems by letting them see it. Sorry to anyone who had reviewed this before.**

**Shortest story I've managed in a long time! This is just a one-shot, don't expect anything else to come of it.**

**Warnings: M/M slash. **  
><strong>Disclaimer: Don't own NCIS.<strong>

* * *

><p>Tony was nervous as he drove home. He hadn't meant for things to come out the way they had, but it was too late to take anything back now. He could only wait for the repercussions to come banging on his door.<p>

It was raining. Traffic was heavy and between each swipe of the windscreen wipers the lights from other vehicles blurred and lost meaning. Tony was itching to get moving. Sitting still was only making things worse. He needed to do something. Hell, if he had his good runners with him instead of his Ferragamo loafers, he'd pull over and jog the rest of the way, rain be damned.

The problem was, it should never have been like this. He had imagined it happening a million ways: at a bar having a couple of drinks after work; with a beer and a steak at the end of a tough case; late at night at the office, when everyone else had gone home. He'd even had the occasional romantic notion of meeting up at Thanksgiving or Christmas or some such holiday. It's not as though either of them had much family to spend those days with.

But an argument? A fight? A mild disagreement blown entirely out of proportion because they were tired, stressed, overworked and frustrated? He'd never seen this coming. And yet, in some strange way, it suited them. He'd always known that the romantic notions were the least likely, after all.

And so, they'd fought. Loudly, angrily, saying things they should never had said. In the middle of the bullpen. At the end of the dark, wet afternoon, when the office was still full of people. Colleagues had stopped, jaws dropped, to watch the explosion. Gibbs had stormed away at the end of it, with a parting remark about needing coffee. People had scattered out of his way and even the elevator had hurried to arrive and open it's doors moments before he reached it.

McGee and Ziva had retreated to their desks and pretended to get back to work after a brief glare from Tony. He slumped back into his own chair, and spent five minutes staring blankly at his screen. Then he'd grabbed his phone and dialled Gibbs' cell, an apology ready on his lips. But Gibbs' cell started ringing across the room from it's place on the other man's desk. And Tony's ire returned with a vengeance. Leroy-Jethro-Rule-Three-Never-Be-Unreachable-Gibbs had broken his own rules _again _and left his cell behind.

Tony slammed down his phone, and the ring tone across the bullpen cut off suddenly. McGee glanced between the two desks, and Tony knew he'd figured out who was calling Gibbs. Ignoring the younger agent, he pocketed his own cellphone and headed down the hall. He found an empty conference room, pulled the cell back out and dialled Gibbs' number again, patiently waiting for it to go to voicemail.

When he got back to the bullpen, he paused only to grab his gear and sling his backpack onto one shoulder. Ziva had stared.

"Tony, you can't just-"

"Watch me," he had hissed as he strode away.

The elevator doors had opened to reveal Gibbs, coffee in hand, still looking thunderous. Matching the weather, Tony had thought briefly.

"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?"

"Home," he'd replied, stepping past Gibbs.

"If you leave now, don't bother coming back," his boss had said curtly.

Tony nodded just once, without hesitation. "Been nice working for ya, Boss."

He was gratified by the brief spark of surprise in Gibbs' eyes as the elevator doors closed between them.

His anger had fuelled him most of the way out of the building, then started to give way to nervousness and double-guesses on the way home. He knew Gibbs wouldn't let him go so easily. There would be at least one more confrontation. He wasn't looking forward to it.

Finally pulling into his street, he parked and headed into his building. The rain had let up but lightning still flashed, rumbling thunder slowly following behind. He ran up the stairs, mindful of his earlier desire to do something active, but by the time he reached his floor he was exhausted. The day's events had taken more out of him than he realised. He considered ordering dinner in, but couldn't decide on what to have. None of his favourites appealed to him right now. In the end he settled on the lounge, flicked the TV on to some nameless old movie, and nibbled on a piece of dry toast. He'd have eaten nothing if his stomach wasn't so unsettled by the adrenaline and emotional effects of the day.

He woke suddenly, surprised to realise he'd fallen asleep. A glance at the TV showed the movie had finished and the credits were rolling. Hadn't slept for long then. There was a loud knocking.

"DiNozzo, if you don't open this door I'll pick the lock," came Gibbs' gruff voice. Oh. So that's what had woken him. Hadn't he thought earlier, that the repercussions would come banging on the door?

He wearily pulled himself up and and crossed the room. He opened it one handed, his other hand still rubbing the sleep from his face, and turned back to the lounge. He heard the door shut firmly and the other man approached to stand in front of him. Gibbs held up his cellphone.

"What's with this?"

"Ahh... that's your cellphone, Gibbs."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and sat down on the lounge beside him. Tony sat forward, head in his hands, dreading the next question.

"I meant the voicemail you left me, DiNozzo."

"Yeah, about that. I was angry, and irrational. Wasn't thinking clearly. Been a tough couple of days, so we could probably write it off as a brief episode of insanity. Think it's probably better if you just delete it and we never speak of it again." He didn't look up at Gibbs. Couldn't.

"And what about when you walked out this afternoon? Think we should forget about that too?"

Tony shrugged. He didn't really think it was up to him. Though he hadn't thought about where he'd go, he probably had options. He doubted Gibbs would put something nasty in his permanent file, so there were always other federal agencies. Maybe Fornell would finally start getting his name right if he worked for the FBI.

Gibbs was sitting back against the lounge, apparently relaxed. He was looking at his cellphone thoughtfully.

"I was wondering -it's probably possible to get Abby or McGee to turn that message into a ring tone, right? Or maybe the text alert?"

Tony finally looked over at the other man, mouth open in astonishment. _What?_

"Think there were some things on there I should be reminded of more often," the older man continued. "You were right, Tony."

Was that an apology? Rule 6 wasn't one Gibbs broke very often, so that was probably as much of one as he'd get. He sat, still in shock, as the other man shifted forward in his seat, leaning in close.

"Of course, there's a part of the message, near the end, that I'd have to cut off. It should be reserved for more _private _playback, don't you think?" Gibbs' voice was mild and his face impassive, but there was a definite glint in his eye.

Tony stopped breathing as he realised. Gibsb had heard the message and wanted to keep it. He had heard it and wanted to play it back. His boss had _heard _the _message_, and instead of yelling at him, or keeping his distance, he was sitting beside him, leaning in close. Which could only mean...

Both men moved to close the gap at the same time. Tony felt like all the air had rushed out of his lungs as Gibbs kissed him. He'd wanted this, imagined this, in so many ways for so long, he couldn't quite believe it was happening. His hands reached around to Gibbs' back. The other man had a hand on the back of Tony's neck and another on the side of his face. Gibbs groaned softly, and Tony shivered at the arousal that sound triggered. They kissed as though it was an extension of their earlier fight, each battling for dominance, until Tony caved and let Gibbs win. He couldn't help a groaning himself as he felt Gibbs' tongue explore his mouth.

Eventually, they backed off, still kissing but becoming gentler, softer. Gibbs turned Tony's head slightly and kissed his way down his jawline. Somehow this was far more intimate than the passion-fueled make-out of a moment ago, and Tony groaned softly again.

Slowly, still breathing a little heavier than normal, they stopped. Over the years, Tony had come up with a list a mile long, outlining all the reasons why he and Gibbs could never happen. Some of those, such as 'Gibbs is straight' or 'He's not interested in me' no longer applied, but there were still so many others, and they all came rushing to mind.

It must have shown on his face, because Gibbs took his chin and turned him to look into his eyes.

"Hey. We'll work it out."

"Really?" Tony blurted. "Because you know, it could be a real problem. We could get fired, or Vance could transfer me to another city, and it'd be easier for you to just-"

"Tony. We'll work it out. Vance doesn't have to know." He paused. "And don't even mention Rule 12."

Tony chuckled. They leaned against each other, lost in their own thoughts a moment. Tony thought of something.

"So, how long have you..?"

"A while," Gibbs admitted. "You?"

"I think you can guess."

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah."

There was another brief pause, before Tony summed up both their thoughts.

"I should have left that voicemail a long time ago."

* * *

><p><em>Written from the prompt "message".<em>

Since I had people asking last time this was posted: I only have a vague idea in mind about what was said. I never wrote it out in full, so I don't know exactly what it was and can't tell you, sorry! :)


End file.
